


Liz Phair and the Cigarette sticker AKA Yuuri's having a moment

by Sherya



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Fluff, Humor, I suck at tag making so yeah, M/M, Some Cursing, Victor is a torturemaster, Yuuri has a meltdown, feel free to suggest new tags or corrections to them in the comments, just fun, nothing but a sketch really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-17 05:11:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11268624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherya/pseuds/Sherya
Summary: Just a short little sketch of Yuuri having a frustrated meltdown.A butt-poker is involved. It really isn't as dirty as it sounds.And Liz Phair.You'll see. *Waves hand* just read.





	Liz Phair and the Cigarette sticker AKA Yuuri's having a moment

 

_Damn just 15 minutes so I can breathe, is it too much to ask for 15 fucking minutes?_

Yuuri pushed the doors of the Ice Castle hard, hard enough for them to shimmy, the glass singing in the casings and the hinges protesting with a their high pitched 'SQUEEEEEEEE". He was out of breath, aching sore and more than a little pissed. _If I could punch him in the fucking face I would._ Yuuri, covered in sweat and having an internal bitch session ( _not far away enough from the door yet to have one OUT LOUD and IN STEREO),_ as the sweat continued to pop out of every pore, soaking him like he was a  rainforest tree, sweat dripping and burning in his eyes, making his glasses slip down his nose.

He ran his hands through his soaking hair, glared around, and then turned stalked around the side of the building where the kids hung out on Saturday night's "teen skate".

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!" He screamed once he was around the corner, eyelids screwed tight over his sweat-burned eyes, raising his fists in the air and swinging them down to hit the sides of his thighs. FUCK that hurt but who could tell right now because his legs already felt like they had been beaten for their sins anyway.

Victor was a secret torture master. “Has to be.” Yuuri mumbled to himself. He was pretty sure that he must have learned his skills at some Post-Soviet Union hidden underground torture lab, and was now honing said skills on Yuuri. _He drives and drives and drives and it never seems to be enough._ "Not smooth enough." "Free leg must be higher." "Watch your posture!" "I have clothes folded in my drawer at the onsen that have more enthusiasm!" "No you have to hit that edge just right."  And the worst one, the word that made Yuuri want to ram his own head against the ice until it bled.

"Again."

Again-again-again-again. "No AGAIN!" It had become a mantra, the chant that cult leaders use to break their followers until eventually they moon about with slack faces and not one nut left rattling around in their heads.

_Must be nice to be the epitome of fucking perfection. Must be nice to be able to shit quads like they're nothing._

_Must be nice to have people fawn over you, want to be with you, think you are so wonderful that they practically shoot themselves out of a cannon just to be noticed by you._

He was walking in a circle- no, he was _pounding_ a circle in this stretch of pavement-so pissed and frustrated. He just needed a 15 minute break, just a damned break so he could try to catch his damn breath. Hungry because he is eating vegetables all day every day and running until he saw bright spots out the sides of his eyes, following that bicycle with its fucking cheery fucking bell ( _jing-jing-_ Yuuri you are falling behind! _jing-jing_ Yuuri we have to keep going _! jing-jing_ ). _I swear if he jing-jings that fucking bell ONE MORE TIME when I am his chain gang of one running behind him, I am going to rip that fucking bell off of that fucking bike and throw it in the fucking river. And maybe the bike too, just for shits and giggles. Can’t jing-jing anymore, so what are you going to do now, Victor?_

 

Yuuri paused in his pavement-moat circle making; huffing and muttering under his breath, sides hurting, feet hurting, legs hurting, feeling shaky, trembly. He could hear people out front of the Ice Castle, someone was laughing at someone else who was speaking, telling a joke would be his best guess. _Can't even take a break without people hanging around and being annoying._ He scowled harder. Reached in his sweats pocket and pulled out his phone, and his earbuds. He shoved his earbuds in his ears, surprised there was room for them as he figured Victors criticisms were still taking up all the space, swirling around and bouncing off the insides. He flipped through his music, and found a favorite, put it on repeat, then pushed play. It wasn't loud enough because he could still hear the joker-laughers out front. He turned it up until he couldn't hear them anymore. _Yes, bitch_.

 

Yuuri shoved his fists in his pockets, walking stiff legged but not angry enough to continue to try making the cement moat deeper with his feet. He just stiff-walked a bit further out from the building, then stiff-walked back.

_I bet I look like those cartoons that have dark scribbles hanging over their heads, and their eyebrows are big slashes and heat wave squigglies coming off them._

But damn, he was doing the best he could and it _wasn't. Good. Enough. For. Victor. Fucking. Nikiforov._

Yuuri was looking down as he walked, slowing down and evenly pacing now, slowly traveling in a mindless small pattern- the world’s only human satellite, tracing it's courses over the gravel and pavement.

And he is thinking about how much he wished, wished SO HARD that this came as easy to him as it seemed to for Victor. He closed his eyes, leaned over and put his hands on his thighs, using them for support and exhaled long and hard. Opened his eyes and saw cigarette butts scattered everywhere. It was no secret that the kids on Saturday night would come over here and hang out, some of them smoking, then tossing the butts on the ground. And this was next to an empty lot, where drunks would hang out, contributing to the nastiness.

He knew that Yuuko had a guy who would come clean the parking lot, but since he was still half-pissed and it was his break and he felt kinda bad for the slamming the doors open thing, he went and got the butt-poker. Yuuko kept a stick with a nail in it, half hidden next to their tiny storage building further down the sidewalk for the purpose of picking up nasty trash and butts. He had no idea what this type of tool was called, they called it the butt-poker, which was the subject of many jokes around the place.

His music still blasting, he rolled the trash can closer, and filled up the nail, poking butts here, there. Hitting the poker on the can so they would fall off. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

Okay, so, he didn't hate Victor, he felt pretty damn special and awed to even have him here- the Beautiful and Terrible God of Grace and Skill, come down to bless he, the lowly earth-dweller with the gift of Skating Prowess.

When they weren't on the ice and the torture was on hiatus, all Yuuri had to do was look at him (lean lines, graceful muscles, long graceful neck. big blue eyes that you could swim in, silver crown of soft silky hair, heart shaped smile- and his hands, oh his hands that were lean and sure- he felt like his heart would explode out of his chest, raining down on Victor like so much red confetti.

But he didn't understand exactly what Victor wanted-exactly. He knew Victor was here to coach him, and he was grateful to the point of ridiculous. But Victor was also really...demonstrative. All it took was one touch from Victor to turn his brain into so much cake batter and just as functional, and he was pretty sure Victor knew this. And he would touch him. Cons.tant.ly. Fingers on his wrist, and they would lightly stroke up to his elbow as he was explaining the meaning behind one of his old programs music. Bicep grazing Yuuri’s shoulder as he would reach over him for a towel in the hot spring. Sitting and eating in the onsen and a thigh would wander over to his, close, close, close until it was resting there. Right next to his. And the heat would sear a place on his own thigh that would burn for hours after. (Yuuri often wished that Victor’s thighs would have those loud backing-up sounds like the carts people ride around on in the store so he would at least have a warning that it was coming and he could brace for it).

When Victor was like this, it would both confuse and thrill him, so he was in a constant state of fluctuating emotion, hot skinned and trembling limbs. Yuuri's tossed in a clothes dryer, the motion turning him upside down, sweeping him up and then he would reach the top and drop down, weightless, until he thudded back to the bottom, only to start all over again.

"He's just so damn...demanding. And beautiful. And perfect." With every 'and' Yuuri stabbed a butt. In between the 'ands' Yuuri was singing with the music, lyrics that were just as pent up with strong feelings and no little amount of lust fitting for his mood, and the situation that he had found himself in lately.

 

_Get a load of me, get a load of you_

_Walking down the street and I hardly know you…_

 

He was getting into it now, singing with his whole heart (and groin, let's be honest), using the butt-poker as a microphone. He spun around, dipping the microphone, owning this performance like a boss, he would bring the audience to their KNEES and they would beg for more-

His left earbud suddenly took life of its own, jerked itself out of his ear. And there was that familiar loved and sometimes hated voice. "Having fun, Yuuri?" Victor was standing in front of him. One hand holding the earbud and the other on his hip, head tilted and half-smiling.

 

Oh. My. God.

 

Pshoooooooooooooooooommmmmmm and he was a whistling atom bomb, released and free-falling to earth, no way to stop himself until he would hit with the force of a thousand quakes.

"I'm poking butts." And then yes, that was an impressive explosion. If Yuuri could yank on his navel and roll himself up like a window shade, then roll away he would. But he can't, and Victors smile became very wide indeed. Victor, in fact, threw his head back to the sky and laughed so hard and loudly that Yuuri was thankful birds were not flying overhead, the sonic waves of the laugh would have cut them from the sky.

Yuuri could feel his face flaming, eyes felt like they were on stalks because they had burst from his head, from the shock. His fingers fluttered, the butt-poker falling to his feet. His heart, or what was left of it, had curled up in a corner of his chest and refused to beat. It was too much. And Victor was right here. And saw him singing at the top of his voice. Oh god, how much had he seen? HOW MUCH had he heard?

Victor was now at the point in his mirth where people who have laughed really hard, start to stutter-chuckle. He held his stomach with his hand, tears rolling down his cheek. Chuckle, whoop air, then chuckle some more.

"I was just cleaning up while I was on my break." Yuuri's traitor mouth said, and then started running away from itself, tongue apparently hinged in the middle so it could flap twice as fast. "There is always a lot of trash over here and I figured well hey- I'm taking a break, and I could make it a bit easier for Old Ito, he is the guy who cleans the trash up in the lot but he doesn't come until Monday-well Old Ito- yes he does that for a lot of businesses, Young Ito is his son but he doesn't clean up trash or anything he doesn't live in Hatsetsu anymore and the last I heard he joined a commune and shaved his head, so it's going to be a few days before Old Ito can come and it looks like crap back here and the triplets are always around and what if they come out and pick up one of these nasty things, one of them put one in her nose when she was little I can't remember which one but I remember Yuuko telling me about it so I just thought-"

Victor stepped closer, inches from Yuuri. He put his hands on Yuuri's shoulders, brought his face close to Yuuri's. "Breathe, Yuuri." His voice was gentle, eyes only inches from his own, mouth only inches away from his. Yuuri wasn't sure what Victor said, because he couldn't hear or think at the moment. It might as well have been in Russian, Yugoslavian or Jabberwocky for all he got out of it. It was the eyes-amazingly blue, it made him shut down completely, drowning in them.

"Anngh." Was Yuuri's intelligent reply. He couldn't stand the force of that blazing blue and he looked down at Victor’s chest. This didn't help much as Victor was wearing a t-shirt that hugged his chest enough to show the well-defined muscles.

 

"Just...” and the hands were sliding down his bicep, grazing his forearm. One of them coming up just under Yuuri's chin and gently lifting it so that Yuuri would look into his eyes again. “Breathe." His hands now rested on either side of Yuuris waist, the lightest of touches, gentle short comforting strokes, fingers brushing and traveling from the bottom of his ribs to his hip bones and back again.

There was now a Klaxon alarm bugling in his head, the guys upstairs warning the guys downstairs that they had been invaded, _send the backup troops for god’s sake before they all went down in flames._

"Mmhmm." that was all Yuuri could manage as the troops in his head were spraying the flashing, overheating equipment with fire extinguishers, foaming up the place.

"Yuuri, I know you are upset. You feel frustrated and pushed. Do you understand that I am just trying to help you, to be the best coach I can?" Stroke, stroke, up to the ribs, down to the hips. "Because I know what you can be. I have seen it. I know just how good you really are. And if you listen to me, you will show everyone." Victor had trapped Yuuri with his eyes, and his hands. He couldn't get away if he tried, and right now he didn't want to get away. He wanted to drown some more, it was the most amazing feeling. He would imagine that this is what people felt like when they took a hit of cocaine. Amazing.

"How do you know Victor? How can you be so sure?" Yuuri was whispering, it was all he could manage, but he had to know. _I don’t see it as possible, so how can Victor see it?_

 

"I know. You have shown me with your body, your movement. Your dancing. Your skating when you think no one is around to see it. If you had wings Yuuri, you would fly when you are skating like that. Do you know that? You would fly."

Hands, soft like sunlight, and just as warm, moving to Yuuri's back, sliding up between his shoulder blades. Bringing his face closer to Victors. Victor’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. Minty breath near his cheek. Noses almost touching. "Are you sure you don't have wings?" Victors hand gliding down and up his back, just for a moment, for an eternity in a moment.

Yuuri can't speak. He is unable. Shut down, cake batter for a brain. Victor-in-his-brain, cackling like a madman, whisking away.

Victor laughed softly and stepped back, dropped his hands.

And then.

"What are you listening to anyway?"

_Finding someone else you can't get enough of-_

**_NO FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHING NONONONONONO_ **

Victors hand holding the earbud was rising, rising,

_Someone who wants to be with you too-_

**NONONONONONO**

Yuuri watched it in slo-mo, this horrible disaster that was unfolding right before his eyes, he tried to get his hand in his pocket to cut off the song, _please hand just save us, save us all, do me a solid, please where is the ever-loving pocket?_

And Victor plugged the earbud in his perfectly shaped ear.

And Yuuri was lost. His hand twitched and that clumsy bastard gave up trying to find the pocket hole.

_It's an itch we know we are gonna scratch_

_Gonna take a while for this egg to hatch_

_But wouldn't it be beautiful_

 

Victors gaze locked on to Yuuri's face, listening with his head tilted in that way that makes him a painting, a perfect snapshot of beauty and grace and everything lovely.

_Here we are, we're at the beginning_

_We haven't fucked yet, but my heads spinning_

Yuuri is unable to do anything, just witness his own undoing, and his face catches on fire, spreading from his neck, up to his ears and cheeks, the flames licking him.

_Why can't I breathe whenever I think about you?_

_Why can't I speak whenever I talk about you?_

_It's inevitable, it's a fact that we're gonna get down to it_

_So tell me_

_Why can't I breathe whenever I think about you?_

 

A flash of recognition on Victors face, he tilts his head to the other side, his bangs sliding down over his eye in a cascade of silver, his finger coming up to his heart shaped mouth as it unfurls a lazy, sexy smile.

Yuuri has died. He has died and somewhere his family is standing over his grave and crying bitter tears that he left them so soon. He has shuffled off the mortal coil and this is the last fleeting look he has of his world. That would explain why he can't move or think or do anything except stare back at Victor.

Victor is moving closer, much closer. His sexy smile galvanizing Yuuri. He stands close to him, places a hand on his waist, the other on his cheek, tilts Yuuri's head up, and leans his head close to Yuuri, cheek on cheek, and whispers in the ear without the earbud.

"I love this song… Don't you?"

 

Yuuri's breathe catches, stutters. He gasps, eyes so wide he is sure they will just fall out on his cheeks.

And then Victor is so close that their bodies are j-u-u-u-u-s-t touching. chest to chest, and if Victor does not move away soon, really soon, he is going to find out just how much he likes Victor this close, because his groin has gone on red alert and was ready to jump in and join the fight. This was nothing new. Since Victor had come to stay with Yuuri coach, that part of him was always half-way standing at attention. _"Ready when you are sir, just say the word."_

Victor pulled away, smiled, and traced his finger down Yuuri's cheek to his lower lip. He grazed it with his finger and Yuuri swallowed, the sound of it loud over the voice in his ear asking why couldn't they breathe or speak whenever they thought about (Victor) someone.

They didn't move. Just Victor's thumb, making a lazy slow pass over Yuuri's lip.

 

Then, the moment broke, and Victor dropped his hands and shook his head a little. He smiled and pulled the earbud out, holding it out to Yuuri.

"Let's get back to work, shall we? We still have another couple of hours." Yuuri saw his hand go out to take the earbud, trembling and numb.

"Yep." He croaked, cleared his throat. “Yes, ok. Good idea."

Victor turned and walked back towards the front of the building, stopped and picked up the butt-poker, turned and held it out to Yuuri. "You may want to put your microphone away so no one steals it. Just in case you are encored."

Just kill me now. "Yeah, here I'm gonna, I'm gonna put it up. Now." His earbud that Victor had used was still hanging, banging lightly on his thigh as he had to abandon it to try to grapple the butt-poker.

"Hurry back in, your break is over and we need to talk about your triple axel. I think we can nail that down this afternoon, you have it but we need to put finishing touches on it, make it sing." Victor was saying over his shoulder and he reached the building front and turned, disappearing around the corner.

Yuuri put the butt poker up, stared at it as if he wasn't sure what it was for anymore or what he was supposed to do next. Yuuri then turned and started walking towards the front of the building himself. First he face-palmed, a hard thwack on his own forehead.

Then he fist pumped. And rounded the corner.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> An idea that floated around in my head today so decided to record it for posterity.  
> I can relate to Yuuri, as embarrassment is my BFF at times.  
> The song they listened to is [here](https://youtu.be/qUALb0sGdto)  
> in case you are interested.


End file.
